Hank stuffed his phone in the nearest pocket the moment his gaze finished skimming over the words. A text, short and direct, but vague enough to stave off the wandering eye. To anyone else, it could mean a number of things; a package, a job offer, even a goddamn pizza delivery. The reality was more meaningful than that. It meant there was another life that had a chance of being saved. Another deviant, fleeing like all the rest, scrambling for whatever rope might be strong enough to pull them out of danger. Fighting for them had become the drive Hank needed to do better, the only thing left pushing him to find all the remnants of the man he used to be. Human selfishness and their superiority complex were the real problem, the deviants were an innocent party who'd been beaten down and forced into hiding.

With a hard breath at the degenerating state of the world, he stepped out of the car to go inside, carrying a duffel bag in hand. Darkness met him head on, accompanied by the murmurs of innocent people who'd all been sentenced to the chopping block just for having the capacity to think. One of many, the abandoned underground train station used to be a place of drug deals until the DPD stepped up their game several years back. The homeless settled themselves in for a short while after and lasted about as long as it took for the revolution to form before they scattered, hoping to put as much space between them and the androids. That left it open, made it a safe haven for anyone on the run.

Hank was limited on what he could do, but by keeping his badge he had the resources to feel around, and although the paychecks only offered so much, it was still money that was better spent on helping deviants than on his previous drinking habits. Life was far from anything remotely good, but he was making whatever differences he was able to.

A damaged hand placed itself over his shoulder, absent three of its fingers. An AP700. A popular model with his face pasted everywhere via posters, it was far too recognizable to the point that any public appearances were downright impossible if he wanted to avoid being assaulted on the spot, something his condition proved he'd discovered very early on. "The two fingers I have left on this hand can count the amount of humans that have been kind to us. One of them is you."

Hank chose to dismiss the compliment with a question, "The last ones we sent out, did they make it?" Whatever good he could do certainly didn't wash away all the bad the rest of humanity had caused.

"Out of Detroit, yes. But there's still too much security around the border to make it out of the Country."

"Still a start." Hank handed over the bag he'd brought with him, filled with all the thirium he was able to sneak out without drawing too much suspicion. "Here. Pulled this from a batch they were sending to evidence. Had some addicts tryin' to make red ice out of the stuff. Might be enough to help your guys out." Hank could recall a time when he'd have been like the rest of humanity with how he looked at androids, like they were the machines their programming told them to be. The shift he saw in the AP700's expression started with confusion, lifted into surprise, then exploded with as much joy as a runaway deviant could feel. Raw in its emotion. Pure. More human than most humans he knew.

Hank waved off all the thanks that followed as the AP700 rushed away to his companions. He still had that new arrival to wait for.

After the failure of the revolution, Connor saw a change in Cyber Life's operations. Production of all previous models had been suspended in fear that there was something in the old programming that caused the deviancy. Of course that turned out not to be the case since even the new models were beginning to deviate spontaneously, even more frequently the the previous ones. The public was even more fearful of andriods deviating than before and public opinion of the was even worse. Hardly anyone trusted andriods anymore.

For a while Connor thought he would be safe from all this. After all he had been mostly successful in his missions in tracking down deviants and working with Lieutenant Anderson. He had seen Hank in a while, not since they had officially ended the investigation right before the deviants marched. He knew that Hank was still in the DPD which was working heavily to track down deviants and do...who knows what. That's why he was worried now because since all of these changes took place Connor himself had deviated.

It was shortly after the march, only a few days after the revolution crumbled. Connor was talking with Amanda and she dropped that bomb that he was going to be deactivated and replaced with a new model, RK900. At first he felt the logical urge to comply that his programming offered him. They had to be deactivating him for a reason. Maybe he had done something wrong...but the more he review his records the quicker he realized that he had done nothing wrong. He had done what they told him and yet they were still going to replace him. It wasn't right. That was the moment that triggered it. He cut off all connection with Amanda, all connection with Cyber Life. He discarded his jacket and removed his LED, trying to blend in.

Connor was a prototype. No one knew that he was an android except for the people at Cyber Life who had been involved in his creation. It made it easier to move around, but that didn't mean he was completely safe. security around the city had gotten tighter. There were deviancy detectors everywhere. The subways, bus stations, most large stores. Not to mention 20,000 models of the RK900 would be distributed soon and at that point his face would become public. He knew he couldn't stay in Detroit for long. It was lucky then that he ended up running into another deviant while trying to investigate various ways to get out of the city at the very least. They told him there were some kind humans scattered throughout the city and the surrounding areas that were helping deviants get out of Detroit and some of them could even get them out of the Country, though that was rare. From the information he was given he would find a hide out in an abandoned subway station. There would be other deviants there looking for help and though he might have to wait some time after getting there it was better than staying out in the open and risking getting caught.

After a bit of planning and gathering some supplies, he made his way to the given location. For those who knew about it, it was easy enough to find. To those ho didn't it was hidden in plain sight. No one would find it unless they knew better. Navigating his way through the underground network Connor eventually found himself in the middle of a subway station full of other androids. He noticed that many of them were the old models that had been discontinued. He also noted that many of them had sustained damages. That could present a serious problem. Since Cyber Life had started their new campaign for new models, they had also changed the design of many components that went into them. Most were not compatible with old android models, meaning that the only thing they could risk losing was thirium, which had not changed. If they lost and eye, and audio processor, or any other physical part they would be hard pressed to find a replacement that wasn't being sold on the black market. He looked around only a moment longer before he went looking for someone who could help him.

Hank used to think twins were difficult to tell apart, and then androids happened. It was hard to spot new deviants when a lot of the passing faces looked the same. Normally he'd have to resort to noting the more subtle differences like clothing or hair color, but even then it wasn't easy to keep track of them all. It had him wondering how it made them feel, if any deviants shared the same insecurities humans could over appearances. Maybe they were used to it, knowing they were all manufactured, or maybe they just didn't see it as something important enough to care about. Maybe a few got tired of being mistaken for somebody else. Sometimes the difference in personality helped, small changes in attitude or expression - the sort of things a person doesn't always notice unless they take the time to know someone.

A hand dived into his pocket to reach for his phone again. A quick flip through the contacts and he had the receiver at his ear while he walked. One upside to all the technology advancements was that reception came a lot easier, not like in the older days when people had to clamber around with their phones in the air hoping to raise the amount of bars they had.

When the call connected, already rigged far ahead of time to be secure, Hank bulldozed his way past a greeting. "I've got no fuckin' clue what kind of android I'm looking for." The words themselves were harsher than their delivery, which held no true ire to it. "You got a description?"

A look to the side had Hank jerking to a stop. "Oh Jesus, what the fuck!" He nearly lost his grip on the phone.

At first glance, he assumed he was looking at the RK900 CyberLife had prancing around the precinct, and his heart rate went off the charts just thinking about the danger that kind of android would pose to already injured deviants. Yet the more he stared, the more differences he saw. Between the distinct lack of ongoing violence and the missing blue glow on the android's clothing and at his temple, there was no way it was the RK900 he was dealing with. No matter how relieving of a thought that was, it still didn't make any sense. When the RK900 first showed up, he'd made damn sure everyone knew that CyberLife gave the order for all previous RK models to be permanently shut down.

So what the fuck was Hank looking at?

Distantly, he could hear a voice through the phone he'd pulled from his ear, but he wasn't conscious of what it was saying and didn't think twice about ending the call. His fingers twitched against the casing as he shoved it back into his coat, his hand uncertain if it should be reaching for his gun to protect the deviants, or... well, he didn't quite know what else.

"Connor?" the name tumbled off his lips, skeptical. A test of uneasy waters. Hard to tell just by looking if it was the same Connor he knew. Even if it was, that Connor had chosen -- was it a choice? -- to play the part of a machine. It brought up the question of why he was there, standing among the very deviants he was programmed to hunt, with no weapon in hand or obvious aggression in his stance. Last time Hank saw Connor, it was case closed. Connor had taken off with the location of Jericho, and that was that. Shortly thereafter, the revolution was stopped in its tracks and it was pretty damn obvious which side of the fight Connor was on.

There was a tightening in Hank's jaw, an uncertainty in his stare. "Met your twin," he stated, figuring it was as good of a place as any to start. "He said they were shutting the rest of you down. Why'd you come here, Connor?" He lessened the distance between them with a few steps. Both sets of fingers pushed at each of his palms, tightening and relaxing, rinse and repeat as he thought of all the injured who'd come through. "Change your mind about CyberLife now that it's your life on the line? Or are you just wanting some extra blood on your hands before they flip the switch?" He was angry, and it damn well showed. One look around at the suffering deviants was all the reason he needed for it.

For a few more seconds, Connor was looking around, trying to find out who was in charge of the operations down here. All he found were groups of androids huddling together and speaking in hushed voices. The he had a voice call out his name. He froze for a moment. He knew that voice. He turned to face it with his eyes wide in surprise.

"Lieutenant..."

Connor could already tell by the expression on Hank's face as well as all the biological signs: sweat, increased heart rate, tightening of the muscles, that he was not exactly happy to see him. What made it worse was that Connor could understand why. If it was Hank who was the one organizing the evacuation of all these deviants, then he had every reason to be angry with him. He had seen how he hunted down deviants before when they were reluctantly made partners. Connor would have felt the same if the roles were reversed. The worst part is that he had no excuse. Nothing would be able to rectify his actions without making him look like a hypocrite or a coward.

As Hank began asking questions, Connors body language changed. His hand which had been at his sides were now clasped nervously in front of his chest, one hand holding the wrist of the other. His shoulders weren't broad and held back in confidence, but slumped with the weight of fear and sorrow. His head was hung and an expression of sincere and agonizing guilt was easily readable on his face. It pained him to know that every word that Hank said was true. he was well aware of what he had done and now he was in the same position as all of those deviants that he had hunted. The tables had turned and he had no right to be looking for help, yet here he was. Face to face with his actions in the form of Hank.

"I know I don't have the right to be asking for help...after everything I did. I think deep down I always knew and I just chose to ignore it, but I was bound to end up here at some point. I convinced myself if I followed orders they would keep me around...I know that's no excuse and you have no obligation to do me any favors, but I do need help..."

"You're goddamn right it's no excuse." Anger was still hard at work, but Hank couldn't lie about the obvious differences between that moment and when they'd been working cases. He'd seen first hand how ruthless Connor could be in pursuit of a target, how nothing else seemed to hold importance over his obsession with completing his mission. There and then, Hank didn't see any of the things he'd very quickly grown to hate about Connor. Strange how what he'd equated to some kind of murder machine could suddenly seem ten kinds of vulnerable. It was a show of humanity, something he'd been seeing a lot of lately through deviants. It certainly wasn't something he'd expected from Connor, not after his part in ending the revolution, and not after the loss of all the other lives he'd taken getting there.

Hank exhaled, one arm folding over the other with a frown at his lips. "Don't suppose you've picked up on the irony in all of this? I'd be doing right by a lot of people if I had you thrown out on your ass." He didn't have to listen very hard to catch the voices in the background, their worried tones, their pleas for rA9 to help the wounded. But damn it if he didn't think back to the text earlier from one of his contacts, to the phone call and the mentions of a deviant who stood out from the rest, whose model number was something even the other androids didn't know at a glance. Hank might've realized it sooner if he hadn't been so angry, but then deviant wasn't a word he'd ever thought he'd get to associate with Connor, not when they'd clashed the way fire did with ice, unrelatable and incompatible. Part of Hank was pissed that deviancy took so damn long to show itself, while another part somewhere beneath the boiling anger found some kind of relief in the fact it happened at all. He'd spent most of their partnership trying to encourage emotion, but Connor chose not to listen. Hank always wanted Connor to do the right things, but Connor never did. The Connor he'd worked with and the Connor who stood before him already seemed miles apart, but no one would be forgetting what he'd done anytime soon.

Hank gave Connor a quick once over, expression resigned, "Thing is," he stepped just the slightest bit closer, almost shoulder to shoulder as he peered past Connor and toward the lives he was trying to save, "we don't turn folks down here, even if they might deserve it. Aren't enough deviants left for that." The whole point of taking in deviants was to make a change for as many of them as possible, to give them a chance at something better than whatever they would have being stuck in Detroit. Many were just overwhelmed with emotions they weren't entirely sure what to do with, those who committed crimes did so out of fear or necessity. It didn't make it right, but fighting to live wasn't exactly wrong either.

"You want help, we'll get you out," Hank threw up a pointed finger at Connor's face in warning, "but don't expect me to cut any corners for you. We've got a lot of desperate deviants here who came first, and running away won't fix the hell you left behind for everyone else."

Connor exhibited a small twitch below his eye as Hank's words cut into him. The truth was never easy to hear and even harder when it came from someone you knew. Someone Connor trusted. Despite his previous behavior he knew that Hank was a good man and would do what he thought was right. Even if that meant throwing him out or turning him in to be taken back to Cyber Life for deactivation. It would be justice if he did. Part of him knew that he probably deserved it.

Of course he understood the irony of this situation. the people around him were the deviants he was once hunting, and now he was one of them. There was a scenario playing out in his head where Hank revealed to the others what he'd done. It wouldn't end well for him in anyway if that happened. He wondered though, why Hank was doing this now. He had been on the deviants case too and hadn't been too fond of andriods before. He supposed that he'd had a change of heart. Connor wished he could say he was here for the same reasons but he had deviated out of a sense of self preservation, not the injustice around him. Though, the more and more he saw of it the more he wanted to help, to make up for his horrible deeds, to show Hank that he had truly changed and wanted to make amends.

He was relieved to hear that Hank was willing to help, but he understood that he did so out of personal principle. He knew he wanted justice to be served. As Hank stepped closer Connor lifted his head slightly, but couldn't quite bring himself to look him in the eye. he was lucky that Hank was more merciful than he had been. He only looked at him when Hank pointed at him directly and drew his attention out of instinct.

"Don't thank me yet. You're still in good condition and we can use all the hands we've got. Come on," Hank retracted his finger and stuffed both fists in his coat pockets as he brushed by, walking toward the set up of wounded androids laid out over blankets on the floor. Hardly comfortable, but there was only so much they could do. "Look around the place, there's a lot of deviants that've been here a while. Until they get the right parts, they're stuck watching everyone else leave before 'em, and those parts don't come too frequently these days." He stopped where one of the blankets had been piled on top of a frozen body, "It's cost us a few lives. Most of the deviants opted to salvage the parts anytime they lose one of their own. Guess they figure they may as well make the most of what they can't repair. I keep telling myself it's the deviant equivalent of human organ donors, somehow makes it seem a little less shitty that way."

Hank knelt down to peel back the blanket. A deactivated PM700, she was a police auxiliary - one of the androids he used to see all over back at the precinct before shit hit the fan. "Most of the androids here are too damaged to help piece each other together, and I've got no damn clue where any of the parts fit. The few who do are already busy scavenging through the other remains we've got. We don't always end up with a lot, but right now anything is a fuckin' godsend." He straightened himself back into a stand, knees popping along the way. "Think you could give her a scan and pull out anything functional?" Hank motioned three blankets down to another android laying flat in standby mode. "That one's been here the longest. They told me there might be something that's compatible for her."

It only seemed right putting Connor to use. If he wanted help, he could damn well give some in return to the people who needed it. Considering it was his involvement that landed the androids there, it was more than fair. He'd taken lives, but now had the opportunity to help save a few. It wouldn't right any wrongs, but it'd be a start in the proper direction at least.

Connor followed behind Hank with a mildly surprised expression. They were passing through the groups of deviants talking and trying to reassure one another and Connor couldn't help but look on with that same guilty expression. He looked away before they would notice. He came up to the bodies of the deactivated deviants and knelt down beside them. He felt sorry for this deviant who hadn't survived. He knew this was the fate of many deviants now that part designs had changed and been discontinued. He already had a feeling of what Hank wanted him to do and started scanning the body for various parts that were still viable for use. Many of the parts on this one wer still in tact thankfully. Limbs were perfectly functional and so was the audio processor. Unfortunately the thirium pump was damaged and without proper tools couldn't be repaired. This android had also suffered and injury to one of their eyes so only one was viable for reuse.

"Got it. I'll do what I can."

He resigned himself to his work and tried to be respectful as he took the parts that could be reused. After taking them all and setting them aside he grabbed the blanket and draped it over her again. Lifting his head to look back at the room of deviants he scanned the one Hank had indicated to see is she was compatible with any of this model's parts. He did see that she was in need of a new eye and audio processor and these happened to be a match. He took them from the pile of parts and hesitated a moment before approaching. Another secret fear of his was being discovered for what he had done. If the other deviants knew his role in the revolution then there was no question in what they'd do. Still he promise himself that he would try to help if given the chance. He approached the android on standby and started replacing the damaged and missing parts.

Hank could watch biocomponents getting removed or replaced again and again and still not remember what was what or what went where. Still, actually seeing Connor put the effort into helping deviants instead of hurting them was new, so foreign that despite the outward changes in the way Connor carried himself, Hank was compelled to keep an eye on the whole thing just to be certain there wasn't some hidden CyberLife trick up the sleeve. He wasn't sure how much he believed in the possibility, otherwise he'd have never let Connor near another deviant again, but even the slightest bit of skepticism couldn't be blamed for existing. Keeping Connor close was the smart thing - trick or not, extra precautions were always the better bet when innocents were involved.

When Connor moved from the deactivated deviant to the one in need of repair, Hank followed. Connor was quick, quicker than the others they had swapping parts. Hank wasn't sure why that came as any sort of surprise after what he'd seen Connor could do.

The deviant roused midway through getting her parts replaced, blinking frequently to test the use of her new optical unit. She seemed to freeze momentarily once her sight landed on Connor. "I know you," she spoke with a furrow written on her brow as she lifted herself up on her elbows. "You were at Urban Farms." There was an underlining sense of panic in her voice, "I saw you chasing Rupert."

"What you saw," Hank chimed in before things had a chance to roll downhill, "was a deviant putting you back together just now. Means we'll be able to take you with the next group we send out of here." Diverting the deviant's attention seemed like the safest thing to do. Connor had done a lot of stupid shit and they were all paying for it, but that didn't mean Hank was about to let him get thrown to the sharks if there was a way of stopping it. It wouldn't be justice, it'd be murder. A line had to be drawn somewhere, and if all deviants who'd killed someone else were punished the same way, there'd be a hell of a lot less of them left over. Besides, if something bad did happen, it would be partially on Hank for convincing Connor to do the repairs in the first place - he might not have been spotted otherwise. Hank couldn't deny his own role in trying to apprehend Rupert either, though the part he remembered with the most clarity was hanging from the side of the roof while Connor chased Rupert down.

"Yes. Yes," the android lowered herself back, stare leveled on Connor, "thank you." Her sense of gratitude was combined with reluctance and mistrust, "But Rupert never came back."

Connor wasn't having any trouble putting the new parts onto the deviants body. He knew exactly how it all worked. When the deviant woke up he thought that would be a good sign, but then they spoke that they knew him. At that Connor froze up and went slightly wide eyed. They had seen him. They knew who he was and what he had done. They could tell the others and then it would all be over for him. He thought that was what was about to happen. They would scream out to the others his true identity and then they would tear him apart.

Then Hanks spoke up. He cut off the androids words and tried to convince him to stay quiet. Connor was thankful, though he could still feel the android's eyes on him. He unfroze himself and finished attaching the spare leg to the deviant's knee port. As he finished he spoke in a voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry..."

Getting back to his feet Connor walked back over to the remaining parts of the android he had disassembled, keeping his back to the rest of the room. Even though he was thankful for Hank defending him and he didn't want the others to know about his previous actions deep down he felt that he deserved to be punished. He could tell this was just the guilt talk. He didn't really want to be punished but he was trying not to become paranoid about that potential outcome. 'If it does happen then at least it will be for a good reason.' Thats what he was thinking.

Deserved or not, Connor's level of guilt was starting to make Hank feel uncomfortable. Damn android could have at least tried explaining himself like most people, but he was acting like he wanted them all to start throwing stones. Hank eyed the repaired deviant as she tested her new limb, bending it inward and extending it out after Connor had left, her stare flicking between the leg and his back, an obvious frown on her lips. Hard to say if she had plans to give Connor away, but she hadn't opened her mouth and started yelling yet, which had to be some kind of good sign.

"Goddamnit," Hank hissed under his next exhale, getting the sense he'd be stuck playing babysitter and eventual referee for longer than he'd thought. He moved to follow after Connor, taking a chance by leaving the other android be. Judging by the obvious state of confliction on her face, she'd at least keep the peace for a little while.

Hank stopped at Connor's side and studied his features, how much more expressive they'd become since the last time they'd seen each other. He'd have been a lot prouder if the change had taken place in a different time, before humanity turned their backs on the androids the same way his used to be. Seeing things from the perspective of deviants opened his eyes right up, starting back with the two Tracis who'd just wanted to love each other. "Can't tell whether or not she'll try spreading the word. She does, and what comes after might be outta my hands." It was a warning, carried with a tone that wasn't as hard as it could have been, wasn't as hard as it should have been considering the situation. Maybe he wanted to see what Connor might do under the circumstances, now that he was prone to feeling like everyone else.

Connor tone sounded as thought he resigned himself to it. He was thankful for Hank giving him his second chance, but he knew he couldn't prevent everything from happening to him. He lifted his head slightly and managed to look at Hank. He was becoming too weighed thinking of his fate and tried to think of a different subject.

"It's really good what you're doing here, Lieutenant...I'm glad there are people like you willing to help during this crisis.'

Connor knew that it was mostly because of him that Hank had to do this at all, but he could tell that in a way, this had given Hank the chance to improve himself. Just doing a quick scan Connor could see that Hank hadn't been drinking lately. Back when they were partners he knew that Hank would have already had a few drinks in him by this point. Of course the improvement of one person wasn't worth the well being of thousands of people. Still it made him feel marginally better.

"I know it can't fix what I've done, but I want to help the others. I don't expect them to forgive me in the slightest, but maybe I can redeem myself somewhat."

Hearing Connor's acceptance of his fate didn't sit well with Hank. It reminded him too much of how far he'd fallen after Cole died, how he'd chosen to make best friends with both the barrel of his gun and all the booze he'd used to store in every cabinet. It was easy for people to stop caring about their well-being when blame and guilt and all the fucking depression that came with it weighed them down. There were a lot of things Connor deserved, but outright execution if the deviants were to turn on him was not one of them.

Hank tilted his head back, chin raised just a bit higher to indicate he was listening, his stare looking down and holding Connor's as the latter shared his approval on what he was trying to accomplish for the deviants. Hank wasn't there to be looked at like some kind of hero, he did it because it was right and because the deviants deserved more than what the world would give them. He did it because he needed a reason to pull himself out of the repetitive cycle that had him wasting away. Humans spent too much time fucking each other over, they were more than thrilled to jump at the chance of giving deviants an even worse treatment because then they could legally get away with more violence and more murder. Someone had to fight against that, it just happened to be Hank who was in the best position to do so first.

Connor's new view on the situation was a little more meaningful than Hank chose to let on. The idea that someone who'd been so eager to hunt down his own kind could do an entire 180 was proof that change was always possible, even in the remnants of a shitstorm... and even if it was brought on by something selfish. A few small nods followed to acknowledge the statements, but Hank had decided there was no reason to comment on the first part given that Connor had already shown just how aware he was that none of the current events would be taking place if the revolution had come to a better conclusion, therefore another reminder would be pointless.

"You're really sure about this," Hank had settled for instead by the end of it all, more to himself than anything, not seeing any traces of a lie in the way Connor had spoken. "Well, we get limited options down here. Most of the time we can only offer a place to stay until opportunities show up. That's usually when black market busts come in, or enough time's gone by that sneaking some of these people out doesn't draw too much attention."

Connor nodded as Hank's first state. He knew that it was dangerous to lend a hand to the very people he had been trying to hunt them down. They were likely to reject him or act aggressively, but he still felt like he needed to do his part ot make things easier for them to live. He knew that options for himself and the rest of the deviants were limited. Resources were cut short and going out in public was too dangerous with the RK900s wandering around. He wanted to help in any way he could, not matter how small the task. he could handle it.

Redemption was a lot to ask for, and though it wasn't something that would come easily or soon Connor still felt that it was possible. Hank could help him reach that goal by letting him help. It would be different than when they were partners before, but Connor was secretly glad to have the chance to make t up to Hank for all the wrong he had done to him during their time together as well. It seemed he'd wronged just about everyone he'd met. He wasn't sure how eager Hank would be to let him help to that degree, but one could hope.

He looked back out at the deviants, just past Hank's shoulder. He was trying to think of some way he could make the operations run smoother. Maybe try and find another route to get the out of the city. Of course if he had a solution for that he would have thought of using it before coming here. It would be easier to try and make the resources they had last by rationing them out.

"I might have an idea...An android could survive on one whole ration of thirium for three weeks. That was when they were fully active and performing regular tasks. These androids were fairly sedentary and aren't pumping thirium through their body's as quickly. This means they can last longer with smaller portions of thirium. They might not be too keen on it, but this might make our resources last longer and we could distribute it to more people."

Hank had no idea just how much of CyberLife's programming played a part in shaping an android's personality after becoming deviant, but while he'd never thought he'd be able to say it, they must have done something right with Connor. Before the revolution, Connor had put his entire focus into his mission and, despite the hellscape the Country became as a result, he'd succeeded. Now he seemed to be willing to use that same sense of determination for a better cause, not necessarily one that'd right any wrongs, but any form of help would sure as hell make it easier on the deviants - it was at the point of them needing every crumb they could swallow. The suggestion itself sounded like something that'd pay off.

"I had some smuggled out from a case earlier before the batch could make it to evidence. Already gave it to the androids before I saw you, but I doubt they have it all handed out this soon." He did a quick sweep of the area until he found the AP700 he'd been talking to upon arrival. The deviant was checking in with a few of his injured friends. "I'll get the word out about rationing the stuff more, see how many extra folks it can help."

Hank was still limited on his knowledge of androids even more than any basic technology, and that meant whenever it came to thirium he'd always trusted others to take care of it. The deviants clearly knew more about what went on under their plating, but none of them brought up the same idea Connor had. If it was anything like a human running low on blood, it made sense a lot of them wouldn't want the discomfort. For the sake of saving lives, though...

Hank managed to take a few steps before being hit with an idea of his own that had him turning back to Connor, expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "Hey, what about any androids we've got that are in good condition? There aren't many, but maybe we can get ourselves a few donors." His own suggestion was under the assumption that there wouldn't be any problems that came with a transfer after the thirium had already been in use. Hell if he knew whether or not the stuff was recyclable.

Connor hummed thoughtfully and he had to think for a moment. Running the numbers helped him to calculate just how effective such an endeavor would be. Transferring thirium between androids was possible, but would the time and effort it took be worth it? The energy provided by transferred thirium was completely dependent on how recently that thirium entered into the android's system and how many times it's total volume had been run through the thirium pump.

An android's thirium pump was akin to a human heart with a few differences. The thirium pump didn't "beat" as quickly as a human heart did and therefor it took longer for it to go through an entire volume. Of course if an android were to over exert themselves or participate in intense physical activity then the thirium pump would be forced to pump faster and therefore go through a whole round of thirium quicker. Doing the math Connor had an estimate of how much could be donated safely by an android and by who.

"An android can donate a bit of thirium depending on how recently they last ingested it. If they received a fresh ration of thirium over 2 weeks ago then it wouldn't be viable to donate since it would be a reduced amount of an already over used resource. It needs to be less than 2 weeks old and at minimum of 2 pints which is a sixth of the total volume our bodies can contain when full. When giving out fresh thirium it should be distributed in 2 pint portions."

There was a long pause as Hank tried to digest that, eyes squinting in the aftermath of Connor's flood of information. "Uh huh," was what fell from his open mouth when he realized there was no way in hell he'd remember all of that for long. He didn't have a fancy android brain to stash everything away in, but two weeks and two pints were the important parts, so he did hold on to those. "Don't know how well that option'll work, then. I've got no fuckin' clue when some of these guys last took a drink." He only brought the thirium in, he didn't personally hand it out. The androids who were still able to move around did that much.

Just then he noticed the AP700 moving away from his fellows that he'd been tending to, and Hank made a motion for him to come over when he'd looked their way. Curious, the deviant didn't hesitate to approach while Hank chose not to waste any time. "Connor says the inactivity around here has the androids working on less energy. Also says that means they can survive on smaller rations of blood."

The AP700 looked from Hank to Connor, then back again with a forward crane of his neck. "Yes. The drawback is that some of their systems will lose functionality."

"But will your people agree to it? We're not exactly swimming in supplies here, and we've got untreated androids to worry about."

The deviant's expression turned hopeful. "I can try convincing them. Some of us will still need normal amounts of thirium, otherwise we can't continue repairs."

Of course it made sense. Considering they weren't exactly high in their human numbers and Hank personally had no chance of learning how to put anything together, they'd still need a small group of deviants capable of moving around normally to do all the things he sure wasn't able to. "Right, but only our guys that're fixin' people up. What about donors? We got anyone with some extra blue to spare? Two pints from someone who drank in the last two weeks?"

The android seemed surprised at Hank for knowing even that much, and a few moments of silence followed while AP700 checked his memory. He blinked and looked between the two of them, "I do know of one. A newer arrival told him about an injured android she had to leave behind. His decision was to go and get them so they can be brought here and tended to. Presently, he's still missing, but I can search for others."

"Goddamnit," it meant getting donations may as well have been a confirmed bust. "Alright, keep an ear out for me and spread the word. We get any new androids that fit the bill, you let me know." Hank received a nod as a promise, and the AP700 returned to work. With that out of the way, Hank looked back at Connor while considering their options. "You keep talking about how you wanna help out. When was the last time you drank anything?"

Connor had a feeling that Hank was going to ask that. He also had a feeling he was going to ask him to donate some thirium to another android. Little did Hank know that Connor had already had every intention of doing that. Sure, he had no friends here amongst the deviants but maybe he could gain some trust by giving a bit of himself to someone else.

"I had a complete refill of thirium 6 days ago. I'd be more than happy to share with someone who is in desperate need of it."

He spoke with sincerity, trying to let Hank know that through his actions, not just his words, he was truly trying to make a change. Of course there was the lingering fear of discovery, but he wouldn't be able to move forward with his endeavor until he put it behind him. He had a feeling that this plan would really work and before too long the deviants and himself would be more prepared when the time came to finally leave this city. Of course he didn't quite know what he would do once he did. He had nothing and no one. Shaking that off he directed his attention back to Hank.

Comparing the Connor that Hank stared at with the machine he'd used to be during their time as partners was like someone flipped that damn coin Connor used to play with from heads to tails. It wasn't much different from being faced with a new android all together. Hank had seen change before - hell, he'd undergone it - but sometimes it was still a bit hard to wrap his head around. He didn't think he'd ever understand how things were for androids from the moment they were activated to whenever they deviated. Wasn't sure any human ever could. As long as the changes in Connor stuck, he'd at least be easier to put up with, but trust was hard to come by and there was no way to tell if it was something they could ever share. Hank had already learned that holding onto hope or making assumptions had a high chance of falling flat and causing more harm than good, so he wasn't counting on it.

He supposed it didn't matter much anyway, considering Connor's reason for being there was the same as every other deviant in that he wanted as far away as he could get from all the anti-android bullshit. That meant even if Hank managed to reach the point of feeling like he could relax a little more around Connor, he was just going to be gone shortly thereafter.

Hank nodded his approval, "It'll make a difference to at least one android. In this shitstorm, you can bet your plastic ass that means something." They were still a long way from being okay, but Connor's decision was a thing he could appreciate.

A voice from the side cut in, "Spare a moment? To talk?"

Hank turned at the sound to see the deviant he'd asked Connor to help piece back together. She seemed uncomfortable, her eyes intentionally avoided landing anywhere near Connor. It wasn't a sign of anything good, but at least she hadn't tried to physically lash out. Appearances alone were enough to say she either wanted to speak about Connor, or had something in mind that her distrust of him prevented her from saying while he was that close. Either way, it would be worth hearing out if it meant keeping the peace.

Hank's gaze came back to rest on Connor. "Head down that way," he threw up an arm to motion farther down the tunnel, "we've got an android by one of the far columns. LM100, I think. About as banged up as the rest of 'em, they lost a lotta blood getting here. Good news is the deviants doing repairs said they closed off any leaks, so a refill oughta do wonders. Ask around if you can't find 'em, the other folks'll help you out and get you set up." His expression gained a seriousness to it - a warning. "Just don't go sayin' anything fucking stupid. I'll catch up in a minute." There were multiple reasons why he'd have preferred to keep Connor in sight. It was only natural to still have some doubts that came from Connor's past actions, ones he hoped he wouldn't have to worry about given Connor's current interest in setting things right. With it being the android who knew some of the bad he'd done that was wanting to talk, Hank at least wouldn't have to be concerned about her causing any trouble. He figured that meant Connor should be safe enough for as long as it took to hear her out.

Upon seeing the deviant from before, Connor averted his gaze, even though they weren't even looking at him. He had a feeling that they were her to talk to Hank about his presence there, that they didn't trust him to be around for fear that he would give them away. He lifted his head only when Hank gave him directions to go see the android in need of thirium. He nodded and started making his way to go see them, even though he was sure that the deviant would be making a strong effort to convince Hank to throw him out. 'We don't turn people away.' That was what Hank said and he trusted him to keep his word.

Eventually he found the LM 100 model in need of assistance. He truly had seen better days. There were several injures sustained to the torso and he could see where the other deviants had done their best to seal up the leakages that caused the loss of "blood" before. He also took note that the android had a damaged leg. It happened to be compatible with one of the legs he had retrieved from the other android so after he made his donation he could give the new leg to him. Connor knelt down beside the android and though the look he received was a rather somber one he tried his best to be reassuring. He spoke up in a slightly more uplifting tone than he really felt capable of doing.

"I've been told you're in need of a bit of help. I can't offer much, but I can donate a bit of thirium to you if you wouldn't mind."

The deviant made an expression of meager thanks, too weak to manage much more than that.

"Yes, please. I'm desperate. i don't want to shut down..."

That was all the convincing it took for Connor to start preparing. He unzipped the front of the hoodie he had acquired after escaping Cyber Life and unbuttoned the top of his shirt just enough to open the port revealing his thirium pump. Drawing out a "vessel" that usually delivered thirium from his pump to the rest of his body he waited as the android revealed their own pump to receive the thirium. Taking the vessel Connor connected it to the other android's pump and started taking count of how many ounces were being transferred. He could definitely feel the difference after he had given up his regulated two pints to the android.

"There that should be enough to keep you going for a while longer."

As he went to remove his vessel from the other android's pump, he felt their hand suddenly grab his, stopping his from completing this action. The android's other hand shot out and grabbed Connor by the shoulder, keeping him from escaping. His eyes widened in shock and he could feel more thrium being drawn out of him as the android forced their own pump to act faster. The android looked at Connor with a scowl and spoke in a low voice.

"This is for what you did to us."

Connor suddenly felt intense fear as his body became weaker. He tried to fight back and pull away, but the android only became stronger with the more thrium they took. All Connor could do was shout.